The Heart-Cry of Jesus eBook

Some day your little service will be complete.
Your sun will set. The west will be filled with
beauty, and the birds will twitter softly in the trees
as you trudge the last mile into the City; and as
the shades deepen, and the air grows chill, the Master
Himself will meet you, take you to His heart, wipe
the tear from your cheek, the dust of the road from
your brow, and the sorrow from your heart, and lead
you to the court, where with those whom you love,
and those who love you, Eternity will be spent in the
light of His pure and shining face.

EXPERIENCE

THE VALUE OF TESTIMONY.

It has pleased God to place in our hands two weapons
by which we are to overcome Satan—­“the
blood of the Lamb, and the word of our testimony.”
It was the narrated experiences of the people of God,
and the modest declarations of the saving power of
Christ, which convicted me of my need and led me to
seek the grace of God. Very briefly, therefore,
I will sketch God’s dealings with my own soul.

Earlyprayer.

I was born September 30th, 1877, at Westfield, Indiana.
My parents were both ministers in the Society of Friends,
and I can not remember When I first began to pray,
for my mother taught me to go to God with everything,
even when a very small child. When I was five
and a half years of age we moved to Walnut Ridge, Indiana,
where there was a Friends’ meeting of more than
ordinary size and activity. It was here that
my conversion took place. I remember the event
as distinctly as if it were yesterday.

Conviction.

I always prayed at the family altar, and that was
an institution which was never neglected for anything
in our home, and I had never omitted my evening devotions;
but one summer day while playing by myself under the
trees in the front yard, a great fear came upon me
lest I had never had a change of heart. Though
less than six years old, I had sat in the “gallery”
behind my father as he preached too often to be ignorant
of the necessity of the new birth. It was a perfect
day, but conviction settled upon me more and more
deeply, and a dark shadow seemed to take the brightness
from everything. Unable to endure the heartache
any longer, I ran into the house and sat down with
my father and mother, waiting in silence for some
time. Finally I asked them if I had “ever
been converted,” told them I “wanted to
be,” and immediately we knelt in prayer.
How I did weep, and how badly I felt! I can see
the back of that little sewing-rocker now swimming
in my tears. (I wonder where that rocking-chair is
now! The last I knew it was in California, having
left us at an auction—­an occasion not unfamiliar
to most of preacher-families.) They told me to pray,
and I prayed with all my heart. If ever there
was a little boy who felt that he was a great sinner,
I was the boy. I remembered all the things I
ever did that I knew were wrong. My boyish wickednesses,
things that seem a rather absurd lot now in the light
of the sins of the average lad of six that I know to-day,
caused me great pain. Soon peace came, and what
happiness! When I went out doors again the very
birds twittered with increased gladness, and the sky
seemed a far deeper blue, and the grass and flowers
rejoiced with me in my new-found experience.